


All I Ever Wanted

by Philip_The_Poet



Series: Come Crashing In [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: (not that graphic but important to tag), Alternate Universe - 1980s, Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Peggy is a national treasure, Self-Harm, dubious slang, that whole mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 15:00:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12655839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philip_The_Poet/pseuds/Philip_The_Poet
Summary: Jefferson's eyes found their way to James Madison.They always did.





	All I Ever Wanted

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, look, I started another series. Buckle up, this is gonna get real wild real soon y'all. 
> 
> ((Check the tags, btw, the last scene does get a little rough. Stay safe! <3 ))

"Fucking bogus."

"Nope, it's for real. Eighty bucks."

"You're joking."

"Nah, man, I'm dead serious."

"I wish you were plain dead."

"Eat my shorts, asswipe." Franklin squinted testily at Monroe.

"Oh, go fuck yourself."

"Why would I when someone would happily do it for me?"

Jefferson smirked. "Y'all know _Hamilton_ would."

The table erupted into laughter, a low, nerve-grating sound that scraped mercilessly against the sandpaper cacophony of the rest of the classroom. At the teacher's desk, Lee looked up from the _Playboy_ he was skimming to shoot the group an irritated glare.

"Shit, sub's mad," Franklin clenched his teeth, leaning forwards and pretending to scrawl something on the blank paper in front of him. With no classwork left for them by Washington in his absence, however, the action was far from convincing.

Conversation dulled to a thick silence for a moment, an uneasy break to the previous fire and blaze among the five boys. Jefferson folded his arms across his chest. He eyed the class quizzically. Peggy and Angelica Schuyler were hunched over a paper, scribbling out God only knew what in five different pen colors. Mulligan and Laurens were playing some animated game involving three paper airplanes and an amount of swearwords previously unknown to man. The headphones of Maria Reynolds's Walkman poked out from under her oversized denim jacket. There was fresh graffiti on the wall by the chalkboard— some genitalia drawn in permanent marker, a pot leaf, a crude stick-figure doodle of John Adams, an illegible scribble of letters, a slur or two. The typical. The like.

Then there was his table.

Jefferson's eyes found their way to James Madison.

They always did.

His eyes.

His hands.

His posture.

Something in Thomas relaxed.

_James Madison._

The years were like rows now— stretching paths through the fields he used to get lost in, fading into golden Virginia sunlight as the shadows lengthened into starry, balmy nights. The time used to be straight and rigid and endless. Best friends in September of the third grade in Albemarle county. Sworn inseparable in fourth grade, hands clasped and hidden in some juvenile promise between rows of wheat. Shared every secret and every thought in fifth, sixth, seventh grade as the Jeffersons and the Madisons relocated further north within weeks of each other.

Straight and rigid and endless.

Then came the dry New York summer between seventh and eight grade.

That was when Thomas woke up.

Saw his eyelashes, full and long and fragile. His posture, comforting as a warm breeze. His eyes, his hands, his smile, his chest, his laugh, just like home. He wanted him. He wanted him. _He wanted him._

And time blurred, losing itself in the fields that grew taller and darker with each glance and every secret. Careless and rhythmless and winding. The sun was setting too soon.

James Madison was the peaches on the trees, the sweet air in the fields, the tomatoes in the garden.

But James Madison was the part of the property Thomas was never allowed to go to.

"... Hey. Earth to Jefferson. Helloooo?"

Jefferson blinked, raised an eyebrow. "What'd I miss?"

"We're still talking about Franklin's haul from yesterday," Monroe replied, voice just barely hushed. He had never quite recovered from the voice cracks that had hit him at age twelve, but his voice had lowered about two octaves, regardless. "Eighty."

"Oh." Thomas tilted his head in dismissal. "That's bullshit."

"I shit you not," Franklin replied smugly, smirking around the group. "I'll show you the dough later, but I swear it's true."

"You make all that off of dealing dope to, like, sophomores?"

"It's a gold mine, dude," Franklin tapped his temple knowingly.

"And you're in the National Honor Society, too," Madison added, squinting just slightly in amusement.

"Like hell I am."

Jefferson shook his head. "Jesus, fuck."

"What can I say?" Franklin cracked a grin. "People get desperate around this time of year."

Burr looked up, cocking one eyebrow. "Explains why Liz Kortright started talking to Monroe last month."

The boys snapped back into laughter. Monroe took it upon himself to give Burr a very clear view of both of his middle fingers.

"Speaking of which, you get laid yet?" Jefferson looked at Monroe. Madison was sitting next to him. He was right there, and even out of the corner of Thomas's eye, his expression was so perfect and his eyes were gleaming and his lips—

"What, have _you_?" Monroe wiggled his eyebrows at Thomas.

"I have," Franklin offered.

"That's different, you've probably fucked half the school."

Burr laughed a harsh syllable of a laugh. "More like three quarters."

"Yeah, and your mom," Franklin grinned, ripping a corner off his paper, crumpling it, and flicking it onto the ground.

The ensuing laughter was raucous enough to earn a threatening "shut up" from Angelica.

"My mom's dead, actually," Burr countered nonchalantly.

"You fucked Burr's dead mother?" Thomas eyed Franklin, feigning curiosity.

"Gross." Monroe was still chortling.

"Hey, it's more action than you've ever gotten." Franklin threw his arms behind his head in relaxed triumph.

Thomas's ears felt hot. Girls and girls and girls. Straight and rigid and endless. "Not true."

"Yeah? Name one chick."

His chest felt oddly tight. Madison's eyes were on him. He could feel it. Were they? Maybe not, maybe, maybe not, but what if— _Ignore it._ "Maria Cosway."

Franklin's jaw went slack. "No way."

"Way."

"Fuck you."

"She did."

"When?" Franklin leaned in.

"Big party at Laurens's place. This July." Jefferson smiled, thin-lipped. It was true. He told everyone he liked it. She was hot. _He_ said. They said. He said.

_Ignore it._

"Eat shit," Monroe gawked, " _God_. Her tits are even bigger than your ego, though."

Burr glanced at Thomas curiously. "Are they real?"

"Shut up," Franklin interjected, turning around to check if Lee was listening. "Hang on."

Jefferson almost stopped his eyes from wandering. Almost.

But they found their way back to Madison.

They always did.

James was eyeing his fingernails with disinterest, faint bags weighing down under his eyes. He had gotten a haircut recently and it was just starting to grow back out more along his even hairline and by his ears. _God_ , was he gorgeous. For Christ's sake, Thomas couldn't recall a _single_ day where James hadn't looked stunning. Godly.

Perfect.

Maybe after school he could come over and they could talk for hours in Thomas's room and maybe he'd finally say—

Madison caught him staring. Those flawless lips turned up at one corner.

Jefferson looked away, cheeks burning. He tugged at his sleeves, arms stinging, and prayed that Monroe or Franklin or Burr hadn't been looking.

"Lee booked it, I guess." Franklin took a breath, leaning back into the table on one elbow. "All clear. So you fucked Maria Cosway."

"Are her tits for real?" Monroe asked.

Jefferson leaned back. Easy posture. Tried to stretch that knot in his chest. _Ignore it. Ignore him_. "Yeah, they're real."

"Oh, man."

"No way."

Thomas shot them both the smuggest grin he could manage. "Way."

Madison spoke. "Any other girls?"

"Yeah." Burr took a bite of his sandwich.

Jefferson let out a sharp laugh, slipping into a sour drawl. "Oh, you wanna hear who _I've_ done? Burr, _I_ wanna hear about _Theodosia_."

To his relief, a devious rumble of agreement sounded around the table. Burr averted his eyes, lips curled into a tight line.

"Look at him, he's shitting bricks in his seat!" Franklin guffawed. His leather jacket flopped off the back of his chair onto the linoleum tile floor.

Peggy's voice booed him from across the room. "That's nasty, Ben."

"Oh, oh," Monroe bounced in his seat excitedly, "Forget Burr, hey, Peggy! You and Laf ever done it?"

Angelica's head shot up. " _What_ did you just ask her?"

"Yo, cool it, Ange," Franklin replied, "We're just asking."

Peggy smirked, slipping one feather earring between her fingers. "Oh, well, in _that_ case..."

She obliged.

From the group's reactions, Peggy spared no details. Thomas wondered vaguely if she was lying.

Yeah. Definitely. And she was _good_ at it.

It was another moment before Jefferson had the conscious thought to try to release the tension in his shoulders and resume a steady posture. Focus on his lungs, his throat, his breath. Steady. Slow down. Slow. Slow.

Oh.

Slow and gentle and perfect and just as he'd always imagined—

Thomas's fingernail dug into his palm.

_Ignore it._

As if through water, he heard Franklin and Burr gasp at something Peggy had said.

_Any other girls?_

Girls and girls and girls.

Jefferson had been with plenty of girls. Maria Cosway had been the latest; they'd been together for about month and a half back in June and July. Slept together twice. Before her had been Martha, but that was before Martha moved away, and before Martha, it had been another girl, and before her, another. Endless.

Every time, it felt good. Nothing ever lasted longer than three months, so things were perfectly impersonal and comfortably detached. He had always been careful to bite his tongue before he said the wrong name.

_James Madison._

He never slipped up.

 _Ignore him._ It was routine.

Rigid.

The soil was dry and cold and rocky, but he worked with what he could, dropping seeds in the ground with meticulous precision. Cultivating a carefully plucked and pruned persona, leaves and flowers and colors all tailored to a "t". Thomas Jefferson. Smooth-talker. Clever. Charmer.

Straight.

Every time the roots tried to stretch, to shoot their color into the soil they were imprisoned in, they could only reach far enough to crush against buried rocks.

_Ignore it._

"... just because he's _French_?"

"Uh huh," Peggy nodded, "It's a French thing."

"Nuh-uh. I bet I could compete." Monroe crossed his arms.

"Yeah, I fucked a French girl last Fall." Franklin raised an eyebrow, blowing some of his jet black bangs out of his face. "I can guarantee that you could _not_ compete."

"I'm not a girl, though! I could totally take a French _guy_ any time."

"Peggy, back me here."

"No, you couldn't take a French guy," Peggy replied disinterestedly.

"Okay, okay." Monroe shook his head. "But how about French kissing? Is he a good French kisser?"

"Hey, dipstick, it's called _French_ kissing. Of _course_ he's good at it."

"I just call it making out," Burr shrugged.

"That reminds me." He'd found his in. Jefferson reengaged, smirking. "You never told us about Theodosia."

"Oooh," Peggy grinned, leaning over her desk, "Let's hear it."

The group fell silent, all eyes on Burr.

Conversely, Burr's eyes were on all.

A moment passed.

"What about Theodosia?"

Jefferson scoffed. "Have y'all done it?"

Burr gave a tired sigh. "Is it all about sex with you, Jefferson?"

Franklin, Monroe, Peggy, and Angelica all replied in unison. "Yes."

Jefferson shrugged.

"Okay, but seriously, Burr, have you?" Peggy tapped one of her pens on the desk.

"Yeah."

Franklin pounded a fist on the table. "Called it. Monroe, fork it over."

"Fuck." Monroe fished a dollar bill out of his pocket, begrudgingly slapping it into Franklin's open palm.

Burr blinked. "I'm gonna pretend that never happened."

"Me, too," Monroe huffed.

"What're the details?" Madison asked. Jefferson eyed him curiously. "When'd it happen?"

"Few weeks ago." Burr took a bite of his sandwich, chewing slowly.

"Is _she_ a good French kisser?" Franklin watched him finish the last bite.

"Yeah."

"Better than Liz Kortright?"

Burr shook his head. "Never kissed Liz Kortright."

"Monroe?"

Monroe shrugged. "Never kissed Theodosia Bartow."

"Okay, well, what's she like?" Franklin tried instead.

"She's nice."

"... and?"

"Smart."

"..... and?"

"Pretty."

"........ and?"

"Uh. My girlfriend?"

"You are the worst, Burr," Jefferson clucked his tongue disapprovingly.

"Bo-ring," Franklin agreed.

"Give us something to work with, here." Peggy shot Burr an exasperated look.

"Hey, why don't we all just see for ourselves?" Monroe cut in. "I'm having a party at my place on Saturday night. Folks are outta town. Burr, you can bring your girl and we can all figure this out."

"Nice!" Peggy pumped a fist in the air.

Burr pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sweet Jesus."

"Is there gonna be booze?" Franklin asked. He leaned back, picking his jacket back up off the floor.

"Fuckin' 'ey!" Monroe grinned toothily.

"Need any grass for it?"

"Franklin. The whole point of this party is to get everyone going on some good feelings." Monroe looked at him as if he were the daftest person to ever roam the earth.

"Yeah? So?"

"I'm gonna need _so much grass_."

"Monroe! You're having a party?"

Jefferson turned around to face the speaker, finding Mulligan juggling three hairpins and watching them with mild interest.

"Yeah, you coming?"

"Sure."

Monroe shifted his gaze to Laurens, who was folding a five dollar bill into an airplane. "How about you, Laurens?"

"Huh." Laurens barely looked up. "Yo, Maria, wanna go to Monroe's place with me Saturday night?"

Maria Reynolds looked up, eyes wide, taking her headphones off and dropping them around her neck. "Can't."

"How come?"

"I have to be home."

"Bummer."

She put her headphones back on, cheeks burning.

Laurens shrugged, glancing at Monroe. "Yeah, I'll come."

"You can get shitfaced, it'll be a good time." Franklin nodded encouragingly.

"Good feelings, all around!" Monroe whooped, throwing his feet up on the table. "So Burr, you and Theo coming?"

"We've been over this," Jefferson leaned back, his tone slyly teasing, "Burr _came_ a few weeks ago."

The group broke out in cackles. Even Angelica laughed this time.

Burr closed his eyes, a calm, restrained smile on his face.

"Jefferson, I'm guessing you're in?" Monroe grabbed his pencil, chewing absentmindedly on the top.  
  
"Uh huh." Thomas eyed Madison. Suppressed a warm smile. Gave him a cool look. "James? How about it?"

Madison shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe."

"Aw, come on," Franklin droned.

"Yeah, you can always go home early if you get sick from one shot," Monroe teased.

"Or one hit off a chonger."

Jefferson tensed. "Shut it." He looked back at Madison. "I'll drive you both ways. Can leave whenever you want. I promise."

"Mm..."

"It's no sweat, darl— dude."

Silence fell for a moment.

 _Fuck_.

Oh  _fuck_.

He prayed to the sky that no one had caught that, oh, _fuck_ , he'd almost slipped, he'd almost slipped and they would have known and he would have said— James's eyes, his hands, his smile, his chest, his laugh, just like home. He wanted him. He wanted him.

His face burned, his arms stung, he pulled on the most flawless poker face he could manage, _prayed_. Maybe not, maybe, maybe not, but what if—

_He wanted him._

_Ignore him._

"Okay. Fine. I'll go with you."

The tension dissolved.

No one seemed fazed by the slip up.

_Thank God._

Not even Madison.

_Not even him._

"Cool." Monroe raised his eyebrows at Peggy and Angelica. "Angie, Pegs, you guys in?"

"Yeah," Angelica nodded, fishing a stick of gum out of her pocket and popping it in between her glossy lips. "Eliza's coming, too, then."

"The more the merrier. Peggy?"

"Oh, hell yes."

"Bring Lafayette," Franklin added.

Peggy stuck her tongue out at him. "Find your own boyfriend, dickweed."

Jefferson whistled. Monroe applauded. Mulligan fell into a fit of laughter. Franklin gagged.

Burr squinted at Peggy's desk. "What're you writing?"

"Oh," Peggy straightened in her seat, her lips twisting into a mischievous grin. "This?"

Burr gestured to the multicolored, flowery, overfilled paper in front of the girls. "Yeah, that."

Angelica popped the bubble she'd blown. "It's a fake love letter."

Madison raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"We're pranking Seabury," Peggy replied, picking the paper up and hopping up off her seat. "He teased Eliza the other day so we're fucking him over. We're putting this in his locker between classes and when he sees it he's gonna flip his lid."

Jefferson threw a hand up. "Pass it here."

Peggy stalked over to him and handed him the paper, along with the blue pen she'd used to sign it.

"Read it," Angelica commanded. She smirked.

Thomas straightened out the paper. He glanced at Madison over the top of it. _Ignore him._

" _My Dearest, Samuel,—_ "

Franklin split into peals of laughter. "Jesus, you drew flowers all over the margins."

"That's not even the good part," Angelica replied. "Keep going, Jefferson."

" _My Dearest, Samuel_ ," Jefferson began again, " _Oh, how many nights I lie awake dreaming of you, how many days I float through life on the bliss of your gloriously mediocre body in my mind. Samuel, how I long to admire your greasy bangs up close, how I long to kiss your chapped lips with mine, and yet I continue to love you from afar._ " He paused and looked up. "The ink color changes here."

"Damn," Burr muttered.

Franklin shook his head with a low whistle. "This is _rich_."

"Go on," Peggy nodded. She took a seat on top of her desk.

" _Samuel, oh, Samuel, your lazy eye works wonders on my feminine desires. I swoon every time I hear your voice, your poetic prose in every 'hi' or 'uhh'. I dream of holding your uncomfortably sweaty hand as we walk along a beach at low tide. I dream of walking down the aisle at our wedding to find you there, looking at me like you look at a fresh can of Hubba Bubba soda at lunch. Samuel. I write your last name on every paper and I smile whenever I pass you in the hallways. I hide my feelings. I am afraid. Please show me a sign that you love me as much as I truly love you. I love you. I love you. I love you._ "

Jefferson looked up and stared at Peggy, who was shaking with laughter. "Holy shit."

" _Go on_ ," Angelica insisted. Her eyes were tearing up at the corners as her breathing came in sharp gasps.

" _Your secret admirer, the future Mrs. Seabury_."

"Oh my God." Franklin was positively beaming.

"Oh my God." Burr looked somehow both mortified and impressed.

"Oh my God." Mulligan broke into a slow clap.

"You should write something like this for Lafayette," Monroe suggested. He leaned across the table, scanning the letter in Jefferson's hands. "Like, ' _I swoon every time I hear your voice, your poetic prose in every ''ow you say' or_ 'ami.'"

"No, no," Jefferson glanced over the letter, "More like ' _oh, how many nights I lie awake dreaming of you, how many days I float through life on the bliss of your gloriously lanky and French body like a beautiful baguette in my mind._ '"

" _Ugh_ ," Peggy choked, "Gag me gently with a chainspoon."

Angelica blinked.

Franklin and Burr exchanged a baffled look.

"Uh." Jefferson looked at Peggy. "What?"

"You know," she huffed impatiently, "Like, a chainsaw and a spoon in one."

"Pretty sure that's not a thing." Monroe raised an eyebrow quizzically.

"It is now."

"You could also. Uh. Pick one."

"This isn't the valley, Tom," Peggy rolled her eyes, "I'm making 'chainspoon' a popular saying for the indecisive population of America."

"Nice," Burr cracked a smile.

Peggy pointed at him appreciatively. "See? Burr gets it. Spread the word."

"Right." Franklin laughed. "So, anyone think Lee's ever coming back?"

"Nah, he's probably jacking off in the teacher's bathroom," Monroe offered. "He didn't leave his magazine."

"Well _damn_."

Jefferson shrugged. "Sounds about right."

"In that case, I'm out." Peggy jumped off her desk, retrieving her backpack from under her chair. "Angie? You coming?"

"Yeah, okay," Angelica snapped her gum nonchalantly. "Jefferson, give me that letter."

Jefferson passed Angelica the letter, giving the bright, cursive paragraph one last glance over.

"Hey Laurens, Herc, you two coming?" Peggy shouldered her bag and opened the door.

"Where?" Mulligan crossed to his desk, gathering his things.

"Gonna find Eliza. Laf and Alex, too, if we're lucky."

"Yeah, we'll come." Laurens stood, snatching up his backpack and fixing his ponytail. "Yo, if Lee comes back, I'm in the bathroom."

"Noted." Burr nodded curtly.

"I'm at the nurse," Angelica added. "Mulligan got called home for a family emergency, and Peggy died."

"What? No." Peggy crossed her arms. "If Lee asks, I, uh..."

"Uh...?"

"That's okay," Franklin dismissed warmly, "We'll tell him you found out you were pregnant."

" _No_?! Uh, if he asks, I, uh, I walked Angie to the nurse's office."

"Roger that." Monroe shot the four a wave.

"See you guys later," Peggy grinned, shutting the door behind them.

Jefferson barely had time to turn back around before he heard a slam on the table.

Franklin had leaned half his weight on it. "So. Laurens and Hamilton."

Madison glanced up. Jefferson caught his eye. Looked away.

"What about them?" Thomas asked, leaning an elbow over the back of his chair.

"They're totally fucking," Franklin replied, as if it were the most obvious fact known to man.

"Seriously?" Monroe's jaw dropped.

"I'm certain. One-hundred percent."

"Laurens? No way."

Franklin shook his head. "Way."

Straight and rigid and endless.

Thomas's chest felt oddly tight. Madison's eyes were on him. He could feel it. Were they? Maybe not, maybe, maybe not, but what if—

"Y'all really couldn't tell?" Jefferson licked his lips.

"You knew?" Monroe asked.

"You'd have to be pretty stupid not to know it." Jefferson shrugged.

The soil was dry and cold and rocky.

"Huh. But isn't Hamilton dating Eliza Schuyler...?"

"So? Doesn't mean he's not a fa—"

"No," Monroe interrupted, incredulous. "No way."

Roots hit stone, deep underground. The color turned a murky gray.

Jefferson smiled grimly.

"Way."

"Hey, best case scenario, they wind up in Monroe's parents' room on Saturday night with Hamilton's dick in John's ass." Franklin nodded reasonably.

"What the _fuck_?" Monroe gagged. "Why my parents' bed? That's _sick_."

"What, you'd rather have a couple of pansies buttfucking on your bed?" Jefferson laughed darkly. His voice was too clipped. Too sharp.

" _Nasty_."

"Yeah." Franklin chuckled. "Sure are. Disgusting."

Thomas crossed his arms. His chest felt heavy with emptiness.

Madison glanced at Jefferson. "Does Eliza know?"

Careless and rhythmless and winding.

"Probably." Burr zipped up his backpack.

The sun was setting too soon.

Thomas shook his head slowly. "Poor thing."

Straight.

"Anyway." Franklin leaned back again. "Who should I get with Friday night?"

"I dunno," Monroe bent down and began digging through his backpack, unearthing a metal flask. "Angelica?"

"Nah. She'd never go for that."

"Does she have the hots for anybody?" Burr raised an eyebrow.

"Well Jesus, why didn't you ask her when she was here?"

Burr shook his head. "She'd never go for that."

"Oh! You know what," Franklin straightened, brightening at the prospect of some new idea, "I know some fresh news."

"Yeah?" Jefferson nodded expectantly.

Girls and girls and girls.

Endless.

Franklin hummed. "I heard Dolley Payne has it bad for Madison."

His stomach dropped.

 _Fuck_.

Madison looked up. "What?"

"Dolley Payne, you know her? She thinks you're cute."

Madison glanced at Jefferson. "Oh."

Thomas ignored him.

"Really?" Burr smiled. "I know Dolley."

"I heard her saying it to Peggy on Tuesday," Franklin affirmed. "Right from the source."

"Finally." Monroe grinned, clapping Madison on the shoulder. "We're gonna get this guy a chick!"

"About time." Franklin turned to Monroe and Burr. "Two bucks says Madison's never gotten laid."

Jefferson's fists clenched and unclenched under the table. His nails dug into his skin, deeper and deeper and deeper every time.

Rigid.

Madison breathed out a cold laugh. "Pay him."

Franklin made a triumphant sound, stuffing a dollar from Burr and four quarters from Monroe in his pocket.

"Hey." Burr sat back. "I can set you two up."

"Damn straight! You for real, Burr?" Monroe clapped.

"Yeah, Dolley's in my English class."

"Go for it!" Franklin reached across the table, catching Burr in an elaborate high five.

_Ignore it._

"Yeah, big time." Jefferson stood up. The metal feet of his chair scraped against the tile floor as he shoved it back against the table. "I'll be back."

Franklin spared him a wave. "See you, man."

Madison's eyes were on him. He could feel it. Were they? Maybe not, maybe, maybe not, but what if—

Thomas closed the door on his way out.

 

 

 

 

The bathroom door on the third floor had been jammed since Jefferson's sophomore year; the handle required a push, a shove, and a few clicks to get the door pried open. Thomas managed all this in a moment, his motions as mechanical as a heartbeat.

His feet skidded over the tiles and the sludge. The overhead light flickered. Heartbeat, heartbeat, footstep, breath, careless and rhythmless and winding. He stumbled into the fifth stall. Slammed the door. Wrestled with the rusting lock.

Fell against it.

Helpless.

 _Stupid_.

Jefferson pounded his head against the stall door. The sound echoed around the empty bathroom, ringing through his skull. Again and again and again. Rigid and endless.

James Madison.

James Madison.

James Madison.

He wanted him. He wanted him _so fucking badly_.

His eyelashes, full and long and fragile. His posture, comforting as a warm breeze. His eyes, his hands, his smile, his chest, his laugh, just like home.

It hurt. It hurt so much.

James Madison.

His James Madison.

Maybe after school he could come over and they could talk for hours in Thomas's room and maybe he'd finally say it. Maybe he'd finally say that James was sweeter than every peach on every tree, fresher than every breath of air in the fields back home, brighter than every tomato in every garden.

Maybe not.

Maybe.

Maybe not.

But what if—

 _No_.

His chest cramped.

_Sick._

_Nasty._

_Disgusting._

He was disgusting. Oh, _fuck_ , he was disgusting. He was dirt and muck and rot and stench and he was absolutely and irredeemably and unbelievably _disgusting_.

It hurt so fucking much.

But it didn't hurt enough.

Jefferson looked up, eyes falling on the highest hinge on the stall door. A wiry piece of metal jutted out by the top, shining hideously in the sickly pale light.

_Sick._

_Nasty._

_Disgusting._

_Disgusting._

_Disgusting._

He raised his arm, fist curled, heaving himself up, his body twisting into a crude imitation of a gesture of triumph.

James Madison.

James Madison.

James Madison.

The metal was icy against his skin. His teeth clenched. His chest felt bogged down with a weighty emptiness, dragging. Dragging. Dragging. It hurt. It hurt so much.

James Madison.

James Madison.

Again and again and again.

_Disgusting._

_Disgusting._

_Disgust—_

Something clicked against the tiles, rolling into a nearby puddle of toilet water.

Jefferson looked down. Lowered in surprise.

Peggy Schuyler's blue pen looked gloomy and misplaced against the bathroom floor.

He stared at it.

Touched a hand to the door, shaking.

Fell against it.

That letter, that fake letter, that ridiculous prank. It was mixing with the ringing and the knocking in his ears and his head.

_I hide my feelings._

Thomas's vision blurred. He tried to blink it away. Blow away. Go away. His hands found his face. It hurt. It hurt _so fucking much._

_I am afraid._

He was sick. Nasty. _Disgusting_.

_Please show me a sign that you love me as much as I truly love you._

James Madison was the part of the property Thomas was never allowed to go to.

_I love you._

Endless.

 _I love you_.

Rigid.

 _I love you_.

Straight.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry I never let them be happy. Ok, so this series will have a plot! I'll try to crank out installments as much as I can. Catch me on tumblr (@your-obedient-poet)! 
> 
> In the meantime, comments and kudos make my little heart swell, so feel free to drop me a line! <3


End file.
